Woman or a Weapon?
by Kevella
Summary: A prequel to the backstory of Ves from Witcher 2. When a beautiful blonde sixteen year old human finds herself on the wrong side of Iorveth and his infamous Scoia'tael, how will she survive to avenge the deaths of her beloved parents at the hands of these Elves? Killing their leader may prove to be too difficult a mission. Disclaimer: Adult situations, sex scenes, violent content
1. Chapter 1

She woke up to the smell of smoke in the air…

Today was her sixteenth nameday, so as a reward, her mother had given her the morning off from her usual duties around their house. Father was out selling the fresh catch he made in the morning, and mother had given her a beautiful ivory colored silk ribbon as a nameday present. Her mother had gently brushed out her silky blonde hair until it shone bright in the morning light. Today she would be like a princess, with her hair pleated on both sides, half up and tied back with her brand new nameday present. She loved the bow. They were by no means poor, so they lived a comfortable simple life in a fishing village by the banks of the Pontar River. It was a little community of a handful of families, situated in between La Valette Castle and Flotsam. Flotsam was a large town by comparison.

On special occasions, she would accompany her parents to Flotsam to marvel at the array of fruits and vegetables at the city square and the exotic herbs, spices and potions on offer. The other girls in her village teased her for being a tomboy because she preferred wearing leggings and her father's shirt with a green leather belt around her waist. Her mother wondered if they were actually jealous of her beauty and the ease at which she could assimilate with the boys in the village. Though she loved running bare feet in the forest and playing swords with wooden sticks with the other boys, she was not without longing for the pretty, sweet and beautiful things in life. This ivory silk ribbon was the most feminine thing she owned. It was so soft and delicate and it made her feel like a women.

And so when she awoke to the strange scent of burnt ash filling her nostrils, she wondered how long had she been asleep? She had only planned to take a short nap on the low hanging branches of her favorite oak tree in the forest. After all, she had to be back by noon to resume the day's work. Mother had insisted she be back in time for a surprise. She knew it was a vain attempt to reference the chocolate cinnamon cake, which was baking in the oven. But this smell was not of chocolate or cinnamon - it was of decay and panic. As she lifted herself from the branch, she could see smoke rising into the sky from the North. Could it be coming from the village, she wondered? She reached out to the branches above her, climbing higher and higher for a better vantage point.

To her horror, she could see flames leaping from roof to roof. Could she see her own home? She could not be certain. Jumping down to the forest floor, almost tripping on a large root; she stumbled for her balance and raced back to the village.

Panicked thoughts raced through her mind. After what seemed like an eternity running through the forest, she found herself looking up in the sky, noting that the sun had not shifted beyond its peak, where it sat at noon. As she neared the village she could hear screams of pain, a mother wailing, a child crying – then there was nothing, only an eerie silence. By the time she reached the outskirts, she was out of breath and there were no more voices to be heard, just the loud crackling of logs as they collapsed under the weight of burning trusses. The heat was unbearable, as she felt it singe her forearms. The ground was littered with burning embers and she felt them sizzle beneath her brown leather boots.

Her first instinct was to search for her parents. Where were father and mother? Did they know what had happened? No sooner than she was about to turn the corner to run to her home, she noticed the pile of bodies in the middle of the village square. They were all there, tangled in each other's limbs, thrown carelessly one on top another. She recognized the girl next door, who had teased her to no end over how she looked like a boy and had convinced the other girls to avoid her. She would sometimes wish the girl would lose all her hair, or grow too fat for her clothes, but never ever did she wish this would happen to her. Her eyes were still open and her hair singed off her blackening scalp.

Underneath her was the boy who first taught her to climb trees. He was the same age as her, though smaller. They had teased him also, but he had used his slight frame to his advantage. He knew he was more agile than all the other boys and girls and had taken to climbing. There was a hand covering the boy's cheek. As she approached, she recognized the ring on the fourth finger; a wave of nausea rolling over her. It was her father's. She leapt into the burning pile of corpses, still sizzling on fire under the heat of the flames. She grabbed her father's arm to pull him off the pile of bodies. His corpse was heavy, and charred, and she realized it was clutching onto another corpse. It was her mother. Half her face was disfigured. She tried to heave the two bodies away, but she did not have the strength and embers were threatening to burn the clothes off her own body. In a desperate show of frustration and anger, she let out a long low wail as tears rolled down her soot covered face. She could not bear the intensity of the heat any longer and had to move away, leaving their bodies to burn away with the rest of the lives of everyone she had ever known.


	2. Chapter 2

As she backed away from the bonfire of villagers, still in shock and disbelief, it didn't occur to her that there were eyes watching her. In the silence of the wreckage around her, they emerged. Her eyes were blurry from her tears, but she could make the glint of their bows and arrows tightly strung and aimed squarely at her. They came from in front, to both her sides and from behind. They did this. They were the ones who murdered her parents, the villages and destroyed all the buildings. They had set this blaze alight.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" came a man's voice from behind her, "Seems like we missed one."

"She wasn't here before. I saw her running in from the forest track." replied another man's voice from her left.

"Its not to late for her to join the rest of the filthy rotten d'hoine," said another man, approaching her from the right as he lowered his bow.

She lifted her head slowly and steadily to meet the gaze of the man on her right. His right eye was covered by a crimson bandana, but his clear green left eye met her stare. It was obvious the right side of his face was disfigured - why else hide it under a bandana? Though her face was covered in soot, her bright blue eyes pierced through his gaze. He was surprised by her stare. Her eyes were by all means sweet and pretty, but her expression was fierce, filled with a deep hatred. He kept walking towards her, closer and closer, but she was determined to stand her ground. She would not be moved or intimidated by low life murderers. He was only a meter away from her and in an instant she clinched both fists and leaped into him to take a blow up into the left side of his face. She wanted to match the left side of his face to his right disfigured side, but he caught her wrist and in a flash, he had twisted both her arms and spun her around with her back facing him and his right hand firmly gripping both her wrists together behind her back.

"This one has spirit. This one wants to live," he said coolly.

She wriggled herself frantically, slipped out of his grasp and gave herself a safe distance between him, noticing the others still circled around her. He hadn't expected her to fight back and was amused at her defiance. She quickly surveyed the situation and only just noticed they all had pointed ears. Elves? Here? Were they the infamous Scoia'tael? They mostly kept to the forest around Flotsam, which was at least a three-day journey from her village. She knew the Scoia'tael were a brutal band of human haters. They were infamous for attacking and burning down human villages all around Temeria. The man with the bandana who had held her was only two paces away standing in front of her, and there were five of them around her, about four paces in any direction, but the others did not stand equidistant from each other. No, there was a larger gap between the man on her left and the man behind her. The man with the bandana in front noticed her eyes darting around and tsk-ed at her.

"There is no escape, child," he told her, "What is your name? Maybe I'll keep you."

"I'm not a child!" she exclaimed, realizing how childish she sounded, "I turn sixteen today, and my mother told me never to talk to strangers."

"Well, it looks like your mother is dead now and…." he began as he gestured to the bonfire of human carcasses; but she wasn't going to wait for him to finish his sentence. She always knew people were most off their guard when they were in mid-sentence and thinking about how grand they sounded. She bolted for the space in-between the man to her left and the man behind her.

She ran as fast as she could back into the forest. They may be elves, but this was her forest. She knew every nook and cranny. She would lead them to the ancient ruins entangled with poison ivy. The trees around the ruins had formed a canopy, which made it hard to see and spot the poison ivy from the other vegetation. They grew up onto the walled pillars of the ruins, but there was small ledge that hung above the pillars. It was the highest point of the ruins and a great place to bunker down as it was above the forest floor and was only accessible by scaling the pillars coated in poison ivy. In her experience, she knew that most people were not daring enough to push through a little pain. But she had made it a point in life to continually test and push her boundaries in every area of her life. Today, it would be in the area of pain.

She could hear their footsteps behind her. Although she was only sixteen, she had long legs and was known in the village for her athletic prowess. She would not let them catch up to her, and she had to be careful not to let them flank her before they reached the ruins. Her throat felt dry from breathing in the smoky air and she felt her forearms bleeding raw from the flames in the village. She was tempted to think about her father and mother and collapse into sorrow, but she knew she had to remain strong - to survive the next few hours. Then she would give herself time to mourn for them, to go back to the village and give all the charred corpses a proper burial.


	3. Chapter 3

She could see the ruins ahead of her in the distance. The sun was at its highest point in the sky but as she entered the ruins, the trees cast dark shadows around the forest floor and blocked out most of the sunlight from above. She slowed, to make sure they would follow her into the ruins. She knew she couldn't kill them - she had no weapons and there were too many of them to take on her own, but she could at least cause them some pain for what they had done. She reached the pillars in the middle of the ruins and quickly examined the height she would need to climb in order to grab onto the ledge above the pillars and onto safety. She could stay there for the next day or two, and wait for the elves to give up on her and eventually leave. Surely they would have better things to do in their lives, than to sit around all day, waiting for one human to come down from hiding? They stood at thirteen, or maybe fourteen feet tall, above the forest floor. She turned around to face the men, as they came running up behind her. She stood with her feet planted firmly apart and her hands on her hips, shoulders back, chest forward and head raised. She would show them that she was not afraid of them.

They came into the ruins as anticipated. The one who had held her strid in first, followed by the others behind him. He was strangely taken by her manner. Why had she not cried or begged for her pathetic life back at the village square? Why did she think she could hit him with those small fragile hands of hers? She was youthful and tenacious. Eventhough the fire had burned the ends of her long golden hair, it still flowed gently and softly clung over her slender shoulders. She stood there, in front of him as he motioned the rest of the elves to halt. Although breathing a little heavily, she was not out of breath and he knew she had made this run many times in the past. How did she know the forest so well? Most d'hoine did not care about the forest, but busied themselves in dirty politics, scheming away in their holdfasts and towers. She was obviously different. For one, she was dressed like a boy, in heavy mud caked leather boots up to her knees, mustard colored leggings and an oversized white shirt. If she was trying to hide her womanly figure, she had failed as he noted her small waist accented by the green leather belt around it and her breasts bopping up and down with each breath. She had a slender build and he could see that she was indeed not a child anymore.

"I've seen what you've done to everything I loved. You are as evil and repulsive as the Scoia'tael who roam the forests of Flotsam," she barked, as if to pronounce a sentence on the men around her.

He clapped his hands in applause as a smirk began to form from the scar on his right cheek, "We are the very ones you speak of and I am Iorveth, the proud leader of the Aen Sidhe revolution."

"So you admit!" she snapped, "You murdered them because they were human."

"We murdered them because they were in the way," Iorveth replied, "but don't worry, we will give you a good spanking before we're through with you."

"I'm sure you will," she replied with a calm strong tone, "You will all rape me and give me a good bashing before cutting me to pieces as you spill my blood on this forest floor. My only request is that you burn my body, just like you did the others, so I can join them as my ashes are scattered throughout this forest. May my spirit haunt you every time you set foot in this place and I hope I come back as a wraith and take my revenge on each of you, starting with you first!" she spouted, as she pointed with her chin to Iorveth.

He raised his eyebrow, impressed that she made no attempts to shy away from her end. Now he was captivated by her. Was it her frank truthfulness, her body or her fighting spirit? She almost reminded him of himself some 100 years ago, when he was a young elf, on the wrong side of a human garrison who slaughtered the village he once lived in. He could see the strength it took for her not to break and control her emotions. She was angry but controlled, hurt but not defeated, in pain but still clinging onto hope.

He stepped towards her once again, thinking about how he would like to savor the taste of her luscious strawberry lips before ravaging her. He would break her spirit and rebuild her into a ferocious fighting machine. She was still young, he could teach her to become strong and if she would not comply, he would use her as his plaything and satisfy his own carnal needs. Who would have thought that such an obscure village on the edge of the Pontar River was hiding such a splendid treasure?

She could tell he was having disgusting sexual thoughts about her. She had seen the same lustful look in the eyes of the older boys in her village, ever since her breasts had begun to grow. She cursed her body and wished she didn't draw as much attention as she did. The only feminine feature she was proud of was her honeysuckle hair, which she always wore up in a high ponytail. Today was different. It was her nameday and her mother, just this morning, had lovingly brushed it and pleated it half up. And the ribbon! Was the ribbon still in her hair? It was now the only thing she had to remind her of her parents. Subconsciously she lifted her right hand behind her head to check that the ribbon was still there.

Suddenly, she was taken off guard by his presence upon her. He had wrapped his left hand behind her around her waist as he gently caressed her left cheek with his right hand. He lifted her chin and licked her soft lips. Indeed her lips were sweet. He pulled her close to him with his strong left arm holding her firmly against him. She would not break free this time. Moving his right hand under her shirt to her left breast and finding her nipple, she gasped at his touch as he helped himself to her body. She knew she had to think quickly and act fast. His grip was getting tighter and tighter as he began to enjoy himself at her expense. She could see him closing his eye as he opened his mouth readying himself to dive into hers. In a split second her right hand reached for his bandana and forcefully pulled it off his head.


	4. Chapter 4

He instinctually released his grip on her and covered the right side of his naked scarred face with both his hands. Meanwhile, she had torn the crimson bandana in two, wrapping both fragments of cloth on the palms of both her hands to protect herself from the poison ivy, which scaled the walled pillars behind her. She drove her body into the climb, not flinching from the stings of the poison ivy against her skin as she climbed higher and higher away from the commotion beneath her on the forest floor. The Scoia'tael had not yet adjusted their eyes to the dark surroundings, missing her as they darted their arrows around her.

"Don't kill her! I want her alive." Iorveth ordered, as the arrows ceased. She looked down at him and to her surprise; he was smiling back at her. It seemed that everything she did to vex him only made him desire her even more. With a renewed sense of dread, she continued scaling the poison ivy pillar until she came upon the ledge hanging above her. Her body was numb from the pain of the poison ivy. She had to tell herself to reach out with all her might to pull herself onto the ledge, lest she fall below to her death, or worst, be taken by Iorveth and the Scoia'tael. She had to survive for her mother, for her father and for all the villagers burning in the ashes. Her survival was their revenge.

She was completely exhausted once she finally pulled herself to the safety of the ledge. She peered down below to witness the Scoia'tael screaming in agony as they burned their skin on the poison ivy all around them. It was clear that no one could climb the wall in heavy armor, so they had foolishly taken their armor off, only to expose themselves further. Some had tried to come after her, scaling the same pillar, only to give up half way against the itch and rashes on their heads, their faces, necks, arms and hands. Two of them were rolling on the forest floor, complaining they could not breathe or swallow. Another was covered in rashes and blisters all over his face as his eyelids were swelled shut! The other two were scratching themselves profusely, cursing at her from below. Only Iorveth stood up looking at her, amongst the chaos and clapped his hands in applause to her once again.

"Well done," he commended, "I see we have stumbled into your forest. One day, I shall take you back to mine."

He waved his hand and motioned for the other five elves to leave her, as they departed the way she had lead them. It was a small bitter victory, she pondered. She could have a brief respite from the Scoia'tael and a moment to mourn the loss of her loved ones. Indeed, she wasn't a child anymore. She knew that. She could not rely on her mother, or father, or the village to protect her, feed her or nurture her. She was alone now. The only way she would survive was to be strong and refuse to give in to those stronger than her. She wailed and cried in agony, convulsing into a fetal position. She grieved loudly for her parents as her cries rippled into echoes, bouncing about the pillared walls of the ancient ruins. Although she had mentally prepared herself for the climb, parts of her body, where the fire had burned through her clothing were exposed and unprotected from the affects of the poison ivy. The pain hit her, as she looked down feverishly on her body. It was paralyzing. She knew she did not have access to water, so she tried her best to let her tears wash off her body as she lay on her back and made herself calm, as still waters. She would not scratch and she would leave the over laying skin of open blisters alone. It took all her will power stop crying and quieten herself to sleep.

The evening stars shone above in the sky. The fires in the village had been reduced to a glow of red embers, but the smoke continued to permeate leaving a thickness in the air with the smell of burning wood and flesh. They were meant to continue en route to Flotsam by night - it was the best time to travel without being seen, but the poison ivy left his men in no state to travel and they needed time to heal their wounds. Then there was the blonde beauty, who had refused to give him her name and had out maneuvered him and his men not once, but twice! The infamous Scoia'tael, outsmarted by a sixteen year old! A woman no less! A smirk crossed his lips. He thought about her during the rest of the afternoon, as he gathered the herbs in the forest to mix a healing paste for his men. How had she escaped him?

She had the element of surprise, though it seemed as if she herself did not know it. She moved spontaneously and was so impressively unpredictable. It was obvious she was quick to learn and take advantage of her surroundings. She was a d'hoine, yet she was courageous. She was only a girl, but no less a fighter. Then there was her beauty. He had noticed her ivory silk ribbon trailing behind her as she ran through the forest, luring him and his men to the ancient ruins. It danced along with her long golden hair, beckoning him to follow. The thought of her amused him and made him smile as he lay on the ground looking up at the stars and fidgeted around with the new bandana he had made to cover the scars on the right side of his face. No, none of that, he thought. She was but a diversion from all the plans he was making. He had been asked to secure the area surrounding La Valette Castle in return for a very valuable alliance that could finally turn the tide in his life long quest to liberate his kind.

He had been focused on the task he was given faithfully, even brandishing his own men for their lack of focus and idle requests for a night of feminine comforts just two days ago. Yet here he was, thinking about the young women with perfectly arched dark eyebrows framing her deep blue eyes, her high cheekbones, her cute little nose, her straight white teeth and her scrumptious pink lips. Oh, her lips. How he longed for another taste, a kiss that was stolen from him by his own vanity. Why was she in his thoughts again? To hell with her! She could rot on that ledge in the ancient ruins for all he cared! After all, he had burned down her parents and everyone in her village without batting an eyelid.

But she was different from any other d'hoine; nay, any other creature he had met. None of his men, not even at his hide out, could have displayed such cunning or bravery without a weapon. She was outnumbered and yet, she had taken out five of his men, who lay murmuring around him. He crossed his arms as his elbow high gloves rubbed against each other and rested on his chest. Wrestling with his thoughts, it was his pride that finally compelled him to get up and walk into the forest, back to the ancient ruins. His men had suffered exposure to the poison ivy mostly on their arms, their heads and their collars. Yet here he was, with a bandana to cover his head, a high thick green collar to protect his neck and elbow high gloves to protect his forearms and hands. He wanted his spoils and he wanted to keep his promise to her, to take her back to his forest.


	5. Chapter 5

She expected the smell of smoke, but it was the smell of Wolf's aloe leaves, Balisse and Celandine that woke her from her sleep. She was suddenly aware of the sound of heavy breathing and the presence of someone nearby. For a moment, she forgot where she was, thinking she was back on the low hanging branch of her favorite oak tree. Had it all been just a dream - or rather a nightmare? Today was her nameday after all, and perhaps that chocolate cinnamon cake had been so satisfying that she had over slept well into the evening? She wished it was so. Then she realized the pain she was in. She tried raising herself to her elbows to see who was coming, but she could not hold herself up. She was weakened by her state of rest so she raised her neck, lifting her head up instead to peer down and tried hard to adjust her eyes to the darkness.

Iorveth pulled himself onto the ledge with a heave and turned to look at her with his one green eye, as she lay there, caught off guard and defenseless.

"Shhhhh!" he whispered to her, though she didn't know why. He could tell she was starting to panic as she tried kicking away from him, but he caught her legs and sat on top of her, to pin her down on her back.

"Don't move," he continued, as she let out a scream. He reached into his pocket, opened the bottle in his hand and began to rub a paste onto her sore skin. It soothed the pain immediately, as she let out a sigh of relief and relaxed her body once more. Once he finished applying the paste, he rolled off and sat next to her instead, knowing she would not struggle against him or try to move away.

"Why?" she whispered, perplexed at this sudden act of kindness.

"Just sleep," he told her, as she continued laying down, feeling the paste calming her back to sleep.

When she woke up the next day, she found herself bound and gagged, being carried across someone's shoulder. Her legs were also tied together as she wriggled about to loosen the binds.

"The fox is awake," announced the man who was carrying her over his shoulder.

She could not see his face as she tried to lift her upper body. Her long hair was blocking her vision as she tried to catch a glimpse of the men walking behind them. By the sounds of it, there were at least two men behind and two men in front of them. She wriggled again as she tried to scream above her mouth gag, desperately wanting to make as much noise as possible. She felt weak as she realized she hadn't had anything to eat or drink since the day before. She remembered, it was her nameday and she had obligingly nibbled on a piece of toast that her mother had insisted upon her, preferring instead to leave room for the chocolate cinnamon cake, as mother brushed her hair at the dining table. Her mother had told her that she could not have the morning off until she had finished her toast and drank up her honeyed milk. How ungrateful she had been, not just at the food and drink, but at the love her mother had lavished upon her.

She had regretted not spending more time with her father, or making her mother proud. She knew her mother wished for her to be a lady, to wear dresses and play with the girls in the village. But she had defiantly insisted on wearing her leggings. "I just want you to be beautiful," mother would say. Now she wished she had been more sensitive to her mother's request, or at least have asked her why she had wanted her to be 'beautiful'. She never aspired to be beautiful. All she wanted in life was to learn new things, to see more of the world and to go on exciting adventures and secret missions.

Realizing she could not break free from the bindings, she began to concentrate on what she could see, namely the ground beneath her. She noticed the vegetation was different from what she remembered in the forest. There were different herbs and bushes. She could hear the faint sound of a creek up ahead. The air was light, and she could no longer smell the smoke that poured out from where her village once stood. No, they were definitely miles and miles away from her home. She had gotten her 'exciting adventure' for her nameday after all, just not in the circumstances she had wanted. 'Be careful what you wish for,' she told herself, 'because you just might get it'.

The group stopped at the creek and rested from their travels. The elf carrying her had finally placed her down on the forest floor and removed the gag from her mouth. Her mouth ached as she steadied herself and took in her surroundings once again. Yes, their faces were familiar. She had noted their hair color, their eyes, and the differences in their stance, their voices and their manner the day before. All five of them were there, except for the one that called himself 'Iorveth'. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was lying on the ledge at the ancient ruins while he had nursed her wounds. Her body had indeed healed over, but how did she get here? Did he throw her on his back while he climbed down the pillar, or did they throw her down to the forest floor while another caught her from below? Who knew? She was here now, and they had brought her out of her known surroundings.

"Well? Are you going to tell us your name, or shall we just keep calling you 'the fox'?" asked the elf to her left.

"I've been called names before, it doesn't bother me one way or another. Call me what you like, I'm your captive, aren't I?" she replied.

At her own words, she had a sudden realization - she was indeed their captive. How had she lost her freedom she tried so hard to keep just the day before? It was that sly elf in the middle of night. He had made her feel safe and secure. Had she traded her freedom for a stupid healing paste? How had he tricked her so easily? She was disappointed in herself, but her disappointment turned to fear. Had they touched her and had their way with her without her knowing? What exactly was in that paste? She looked down to her crotch to see if there was any blood or signs of semen. Nothing. Her vagina felt intact, as she supposed it would be throbbing had they helped themselves to her body. At this she was relieved, although she didn't know why she had been so lucky. 'What do they want with me?' she wondered as she looked around to study their faces.

"Why won't you tell us your name, young one," asked the elf to her right.

"I'll tell you mine…its Ciaran," he said, with a low bow, "and this is Euan on your left, the one who carried you is called Adwen and the other two by the creek are Quinlan and Finlay; and ofcourse you have already been introduced to our leader, Iorveth. See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Now it's your turn, what's your name, young one?"

"Did you ask my father what his name was before you burned him? How about my mother?" she replied, as she looked into Ciaran's dark brown eyes, "No, I didn't think so. A name is something personal; it makes that being special, unique and different from all the others. Why would I tell you my name when you and your friends obviously have no regard for human life. We are not special and unique to you. We hold no value. I'm just like all the 'd'hoine' you murdered yesterday. Make no mistake, I am only one thing to you - your enemy. One day I will avenge my father and mother's deaths."

"Feisty as a fox," Ciaran retorted, "I can see why he has taken a shine to you."

To her surprise, Ciaran reached down to the binds around her wrists and legs and untied them both.

"Aren't you worried I might run away?" she queried.

"No, my dear. You're a long way from home. There are endrega, nekker and not to mention a Kayran in these woods. There is no way you will be able to survive without us. Besides, we're in 'his' forest now," Ciaran answered, gesturing at Iorveth who reappeared behind her.

"Drink and wash up," Iorveth instructed her, "we won't be stopping again until we reach our base."

She got up from the forest floor, remembering her mother the morning before, not wanting to take anything for granted again in seizing this opportunity to quench her thirst, which she may regret later. She kneeled by the creek, cupped her hands and drank in the cold water streaming along the brook. It was refreshing and rejuvenating. She took off her boots and waded into the water with the rest of her clothes still on. She hadn't realized how parched the fire had made her skin and her clothes. She rubbed her face clean, staring at her reflection in the water and not recognizing her own face. Once she was done, she strode back to the banks of the creek and lay on the ground to dry herself off, careful not to let her white shirt touch her chest, lest they would reveal too much of her breasts. She looked up at Iorveth, realizing that he knew what she was trying to do, as he smiled back at her dubiously.


	6. Chapter 6

He was pleased with himself. He had gotten what he wanted and gave strict instructions for none of his men to touch her inappropriately. He made it clear that this d'hoine was not to be shared. There were some advantages to being the leader of the Scoia'tael and this was one of them. He made himself a promise to only enjoy her once he had made her as strong as she could be, under his own tutelage. He knew she could be taught to be a great soldier, and was curious to see how strong he could make her, only to break her with his body. She was young and when they carried her from the ancient ruins, he noted that she was still untouched – still a virgin. There weren't many virgins he knew of. Only one other, but she too was different and not to be touched.

This d'hoine, however, was his. He would have to be hard on her at first, to command respect from her. He knew that she was still enraged with revenge for her loved ones and her heartbreak was still fresh. So, he had to make a spectacle of her, especially infront of the other men. Afterall, she had tried to strike him and had pulled off his bandana from his head. He wondered how she had surmised that the bandana was his one weakness. None of his men, his allies or his foes had the slightest inclining of his weakness to his scarred face. They had thought the bandana was a point of pride to distinguish him from his comrades. It was his badge of honor to the Scoia'tael, the most honored battle scar of their fierce leader. After all, the man who had marked him was no longer living. Wasn't that evidence of a great and glorious victory over a worthy opponent? All this was true; yet, it was the one thing he did not like to show the world. He had been a handsome elf once. Females of all kinds sought him once and offered themselves to him, not out of fear or obligation, but out of a desire to be with him. He had never taken a woman like that since then. The scar had made him into a monster, one feared and revered; but not to be loved.

Some time had past since that fateful sixteenth nameday. She was now among the Scoia'tael, though never a part of them. She made that very clear from the beginning. She had to pull her weight around the camp and eventhough she did not participate in any of their missions, she knew very well that many of the tasks she was assigned would contribute to their success. She felt guilty and ashamed that the little things she would do, like mixing up a Swallow potion, was somehow sickeningly a part of the murder of yet another human. But she had to survive, so she had to use them to survive, and in turn, Iorveth had told her that on her eighteenth nameday, he would use her for his pleasure.

In the meanwhile, she was to train with him in all manner of combat. This complimentary training from a renowned fighter was not a bad proposal to her, though she did not understand why this was even being offered to her in the first place. She knew he was stronger and more skilled than her, so she planned to exploit this generosity. Perhaps he had felt bad for murdering her parents and the villagers? Who knew? One thing he did do was to make an example of her. He knew that she had loved her long golden hair; so on the first day she arrived at base camp, he had paraded her around and had savagely cut off her beautiful long flowing hair with his dagger. It was her point of pride and he knew it. He had even taken her ivory ribbon and kept it in his pocket with a lock of her long blonde hair. She had cried in private that day, but in an act of defiance, she went ahead and shaved the rest of her short hair off until she was as bald as a monk. She thought to herself, her hair had made her beautiful once, but now she was a different person. She would have to redefine herself. Since then, her hair had grown back, but she had purposely kept it short, as short as Iorveth's. She would work hard in training to be his equal, or even overtake him one day.

His training was brutal. She expected nothing less and considering it was all building towards making her stronger so that she could one day kill him, she was perplexed at the irony of the situation. As time passed by, she had to remind herself that she hated him, eventhough he would spend any spare moment he had in training her to be better and better. He trained her in archery, in swordplay, in the two handed short sword. She was even trained in sneaking and the study of herbs. Sometimes he instructed her to slay the endrega and nekker in the forest blindfolded, while he watched her movements from the treetops above. Whenever she lost her footing or failed, he would strike the pursuing endrega with his bow and arrow before they devoured her. It was a test of trust was well as combat. She proved to be a quick learner. He began using her to train the new recruits to the Scoia'tael.

Iorveth was careful not to talk to her outside their training sessions. He did not want to become too familiar with her, and it was obvious he had not won her over as yet. He was impressed by her determination to become better and better at whatever combat skill he would train her in. Indeed, he was correct in spotting the young talent that day in the burning village. She was everything she promised to be. Hard working, tenacious, free spirited, stubborn and although she willfully kept her hair short at all times, she could not disguise her pretty face or her beautiful body. He could tell that she tried hard to make herself as masculine as possible in her stance, her approach and her manner. She was never seen in a dress and she never sought sexual pleasure from anyone. He had followed her on more than one occasion to the waterfall, as she undressed and bathed herself in the moonlight. In these stolen moments, he had noted that instead of tattooing elven vines or sayings, she had chosen skulls and swords to decorate her body.

Iorveth would duel with her on the third day after every full moon, as a test of her skills. He had not gone easy on her and had left several scars on her body during the course of their matches. Though she did not complain or say a word, every time they dueled, he had driven her to the point of complete exhaustion, only to end the match just in time for her to still hold her pride without having to yield to him. She would never give up, not even when her body was bloodied, staggering with a limp in one leg or if she still had arrows protruding from her body. She would fight all desire not to stay conscious during the onslaught. It was he, who would judge where her limit was and for some unknown reason, she trusted in his judgment.

She never crossed him, out of respect for his devotion to her training, but she began to plot her escape as the time for her eighteenth nameday drew nearer and nearer. She had to continually remind herself of why she had hated Iorveth and the promise she had made to avenge the murder of her parents. She found it increasing difficult not to be drawn into Iorveth's powerful and charismatic charms. Why did he teach her, and feed her, and protect her? She noticed very early on that none of the other Scoia'tael dare touch her and they let her keep to herself whenever she wanted to be alone.

They did however keep a constant eye on her, never letting her venture off too far. She had lived among them for long enough to know the precision and strength of their skills. The Scoia'tael were the best archers in the world, and whenever she took a step too far from base camp, she was always given a friendly reminder via a flying arrow, which would always just narrowly miss her where she stood. Why was Iorveth guarding her so heavily? Would he someday be bored of her and decide to retract his generosity? All these questions raced through her mind as she tried searching for the motive and meaning behind her presence at the Scoia'tael camp. What prisoner in all Temeria would be given such license to roam as they pleased and be treated as an equal among a group of human haters?

She knew that she had become too familiar with them, with him. The longer she stayed with them, the harder it was to hate them. Was this his plan all along, to make her into a Squirrel? No, she would never join them and she knew she needed her own identity beyond the Scoia'tael and Iorveth. She had decided that she would break free from his grasp on her eighteenth nameday. He had threatened to take her that day and it would present the best opportunity she had to take him off guard in close proximity. She would use his own desires against him and kill him in his own bed.


	7. Chapter 7

The day of her eighteenth nameday had arrived. It was the second year anniversary of her parent's death and she had to replay the plot to kill Iorveth in her mind over and over again to memorize what she had to do. She had to make sure that he suspected nothing and she had to make herself vulnerable to him in order for her plan to work. The day had begun as usual. Ciaran had offered her some berries to break fast and she had joined the Scoia'tael in their makeshift armory to sharpen all the arrows Quinlan and Finlay had made the day earlier. By noon, she was helping to train the new recruits amid handing out bruises on their bodies and their egos. As she finished with the training, she was packing up to ready herself for her usual walk around the forest when Adwen caught her by surprise and barked out some orders to her.

"He's waiting for you by the waterfall. Take this to him and don't be late." Adwen ordered, without so much as a glance at her, while he flung a heavy knapsack to her.

'Someone's in a bad mood' she thought to herself as she hung the knapsack over her shoulder and began her track down to the waterfall to meet Iorveth.

He was sitting on a low hanging branch in a tree by the waterfall whilst playing a soulful tune on his flute when she arrived. She had sometimes secretly listened to his flute playing at nights, when he thought everyone was asleep and no one was listening. He only played his flute in private and she could tell from the sadness in the tunes that every song was a reference to his painful past. She realized that they had hardly spoken to each other outside their training sessions and began to feel uncomfortable at this unfamiliar context she suddenly found herself in. Were they to be equals as friends, or enemies, or master and student, as they had usually been? She felt nervous, and suddenly aware of her own body as she tried not to meet his gaze.

He saw how uncomfortably awkward she was, as she approached him. He smiled at the thought that after the past two years, his presence still had an effect on her. He jumped down from the tree and took the knapsack from her shoulder without saying a word. She knew not to talk back to him or ask unnecessary questions. He had trained her well in obeying his every command and set a strict routine for her every day. Today, they would break away from routine and this proved to cause her to feel anxiety, not knowing what to expect. He pulled out a grey blanket from the knapsack and lay in on the ground by their feet.

"Sit," he said, as he gestured for her to take her place beside him on the blanket.

She paused hesitantly, moved obediently toward him and sat on the blanket beside him. He continued to pull out all kinds of things from the knapsack she had brought. It had a handful of nuts and berries, some kind of jerky, a cup of millk with cinnamon added and some dried Bryonia leaves. By all accounts this was a feast by Scoia'tael standards, as they lived off the land and were not appointed the luxuries of a normal village kitchen or market.

"Eat and drink," he instructed, as they sat together on the rug and consumed all the food he had laid before them. She noticed that the other Scoia'tael were not around. There was no one following them, hidden in the trees. It was just he, and she and the waterfall infront of them. She ate her fill silently, feeling herself ease a little. This was nice. Perhaps he had remembered her nameday and this was his way of a present to her? She decided she would enjoy this little luxury while she could. No doubt, what had happened two years ago had taught her to cherish the good times, no matter how fleeting the moment, before it passed her by. She lay back onto her elbows; full from the meal they just had and closed her eyes peacefully.

She could hear the sound of birds, chirping in the trees and she took a deep breath against the thin spray of moisture from the waterfall. She had almost forgotten that Iorveth was still sitting beside her as she opened her eyes and met his one clear green eye, looking back down at her. Startled, she pulled herself up and tensed her body once more. The eye contact made her feel uncomfortable again as she furrowed her brow, trying hard to think about what to do next.

He got up from the rug and held out his right hand to help her up. She refused his hand and got to her feet by herself. He laughed.

"Come," he commanded, in that confident master's tone he had always used on her during their training sessions. She complied and followed him along a path upwards and into some elven ruins she had not seen before. They were now past her usual perimeter boundary of the forest, she was never allowed to go beyond the waterfall and this was all new territory to her. She was curious and eager to discover this new part of the forest she had not known before. They came upon an opening to what seemed like a small garden at the top of the pathway.

There was an extraordinary light grey statue of two lovers in the middle of the garden and the surroundings reminded her of the ancient ruins near her village. Was he giving her a reference to that incident with the poison ivy? Were those ancient ruins elven as well? The thought hadn't occurred to her, but she could see the similarity in architecture around her now. He had left her sight as she marveled at the beautiful array of flowers growing all around the garden. She had forgotten that the pretty, sweet and beautiful things still existed in life. After seeing the pile of bodies in the flaming bonfire in her village, and living in that dank cave with the Scoia'tael for the past few years, it was the first time in a long time since she had found her heart leap for joy and feel happy once again as she surveyed each corner of this secret garden.

He had left her to marvel at the garden once they had reach the top of the path. As she took in the wonderful sights and smells around her, he searched for the rose of remembrance that grew inconspicuously by the foot of one of the pillars to the left. She was just a d'hoine and would not realize the significance of the rose, but he plucked it nonetheless, and turned back to her to present her with the flower. A ray of light had pierced through the trees and made her short blonde hair shine in the golden sun. Now, not only her face, but her expression was sweet, as she turned to him and whispered, "Its so beautiful," as her eyes darted all around her, not noticing the rose he had in his hand.

"Yes, it is," he replied, not dropping his gaze upon her.

She realized he was staring at her, and at that, she changed her countenance and crossed her arms infront of her as a defense mechanism. He remained unchanged, as he approached her and lifted the crimson rose to her. In what she could only surmise as a nameday wish in his mother tongue, he began speaking in elvish, making sure to pronounce each word with clear diction, knowing very well that she could not understand its meaning. That didn't matter to him; he understood what he was saying to her, and he made sure she caught his eye and would not break from his gaze. It sounded like poetry to her and the intimate surroundings made her feel giddy with romance, but she flexed her arms making sure not to break from her protective stance. He obviously wanted her to accept the rose, but for all she knew, it may have been laced with poison ivy? Afterall, this place was not unlike the ancient ruins that she had lured him and his men into, and trapped them. This could also be a trap, perhaps a payback for what she had done to them?

He looked disappointed as he realized she would not accept the rose he had held out before her. So instead, he placed in gently over her right ear, making sure it was firmly set in place. The large crimson petals made her face look all the more delicate and innocent as he slowly cupped her chin with both his hands, then lifted her chin gently to place a soft kiss on her lips.

She wanted to instantly fight back and pull away from him, but the shock of his sweet, gentle embrace made her want him also. Her arms were now against his chest, but instead of wrenching away from him, she found her hands were relaxing and resting on his strong broad shoulders. What was happening to her? Her mind was telling her to stop, but her body was not bending to her will. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the right, as she felt his moist tongue plunge into her open mouth. He kissed her passionately as she accidentally moaned beneath him. He tasted of the berries and nuts they had just eaten by the waterfall, but he smelled like the trees, and earth and sunlight.


	8. Chapter 8

A gentle breeze swept past them as he broke away from their locked embraced. It was the last thing she had expected, as he turned away from her and began spitting out curses in his elven tongue. She was confused. She covered her lips with her fingers and backed away from him, bewildered as to how he had managed to bend her to his will and steal her first kiss. He seemed visibly distressed, and angry, but not so much at her, but at himself.

Iorveth knew very well that she was no elf. He was especially puzzled as he had never been drawn to a human women. He clinched his fists as he turned back to her, his face hard with a spiteful glit in his eye.

"Do you know what day it is today?" he barked, as he stood, facing her, making no attempts to draw closer to her.

"Its my eighteenth nameday?" she answered, somehow knowing that was not the correct answer.

"Today is the day of your final lesson," he said, as a matter of fact, "and just like any duel we have had, you can choose to yield at any point in time, if you are not strong enough to handle the training."

Yielding for her was a sign of defeat, it was admitting to him that she had lost and she was not about to give him that satisfaction today. She had worked hard in all their training sessions and had always left with her pride still in tact after every duel they had. Today would be no exception; no matter how grueling a fight he was about to give her.

"Very well," he said, as he grabbed her by her left wrist and led her behind a pillar of vines to the right, which gave way to a concealed door, leading down underneath the garden.

Flinging her into the room below, she caught her balance as she adjusted her eyes to the surroundings below. It was a small room, with what appeared to be a bathing pool in the middle as a trickle of water from the surface above provided the bath with a constant supply of fresh water.

"Take off your clothes," he commanded, as she looked back at him incredulously, "Or would you like to yield?" he continued.

She knew what he had meant by "final training". Today she would have to test her boundaries in the area of her pride and her sex. She took off her boots slowly, then her leggings, followed by her belt and lastly her shirt. She covered her naked breasts and vagina with her hands, still feeling determined not to yield to him.

"Get in the pool," he commanded, as she dipped her right toe in, carefully trying to feel the bottom and gauge how deep the waters were. The water was pleasantly warm, unlike the creeks and waterfall in the forest; she realized that this was a natural hot spring, as she immersed the rest of her body into the water. Whilst still covering herself instinctually, eventhough her body was concealed by the water, she could see Iorveth taking off his clothes also. First his short light brown boots, then his leggings. She realized that he wore many more layers that she did. He was unbuckling his long elbow high gloves and he wore a heavy green woolen garment that dropped past his knees.

He was now fully naked before her, as she noted his toned muscular body. It reminded her of something she had seen, as she remembered how she had marvelled at the statue of the Elf and his lover in the middle of the garden just above them. It seemed as if he was flexing his muscles, but she could tell from his stance that he was relaxed and completely at ease. He made not attempt to cover his manhood with his hands. No, he was proud of what he had and she gasped as the sight of it. She had never seen one before and did not realize how long and fat they were, hanging there from his hairy crotch. He realized she was staring at his penis, and smirked as his eye found hers. Lastly, he removed his crimson bandana from his head. This he did deliberately, as he folded it carefully into the pocket of his green garment which now lay on the stone floor. As he stuffed the bandana into his pocket, she noticed her ivory colored ribbon and a lock of her once long blonde hair accidentally spill out from the same pocket. Had he kept those items with him all this while? Why was he carrying them with him?

Iorveth climbed into the pool and waded towards her. She could see his full face now, as he proudly strode toward her. His right eye socket was completely empty and dark ugly skin had formed over it. A deep purplish red scar had started at the edge of where this right eye would have been, all the way across his right cheek and ended at his right nostril. His face was not as bad as she had anticipated, as she recalled her own mother's disfigured face burning in the bonfire. She had never studied his face intently before and had only seen him as a commanding shape, barking orders at her during their training sessions. Now, in this intimate setting, she was surprised to discover that he had sharp angular features and a rather handsome face.

He pulled her arms down to her sides to reveal her supple rambunctious breasts and her neat vagina below. He smiled approvingly as he began to wash her body. His hands felt across every inch of her soft skin. He washed her hair, her face and her neck. He moved down to wash her breasts as she flinched at his deft fingers circling around her nipples. He couldn't help but play with them as he made them hardened, then moved onto her back. He washed down her slender back, now marked with tattoos, then onto her round firm buttocks. His right hand reached into the cracks of her butt cheeks as she let out a gasp.

"Do you yield now?" he taunted, looking straight at her as she shook her head defiantly, "Good," he added, as his left hand reached down between the slit of her labia and his fingers rolled past her clit. She had never been touched there and she was shocked by the sudden sensation. His hands met each other near her vaginal opening, as he continued rubbing and cleaning every crevasse of her parts down there. She wondered why he had taken such care to clean her body, as if he was taking mental notes on her every proportion. She could still feel his hands all over her body, eventhough he was now pulling her out of the water and leading her into the next chamber of this secret underground hideout.

There was a king size bed in the middle of the room draped with blue velvet sheets and fluffy white pillows. It had been such a long time since she last slept on a comfortable bed. There were candles all around, lighting up the darkness and casting shadows of flicking lights on the ceiling. She could smell the sweet scent of jasmine in the air and noticed the wax dripping by each candle, noting that they had been lighted long before they had entered the room.

"Get on the bed", Iorveth instructed, as she slowly moved towards the four post oak bed, carved with vines and elven writing. She wondered why he had been so gentle with her? This same elf was responsible for the murder of hundreds of her own kind. He would have thrown her into the bonfire of burning bodies just two years ago, had she not made an attempt to escape.

Yet here she was, in a romantic room premeditated for her today. She crawled onto the bed as he flipped her on her back in the middle of the bed and sat on top of her, pinning her down on the soft mattress. He had sat on top of her once, on the ledge in the ancient ruins, but this time they were both completely naked and her bare skin was touching his. His penis had changed its form. It was standing upright, pointing at her. She braced herself, scrunched her face and shut her eyes. 'It would all be over soon,' she thought to herself. She had known that after a man spills his seed he was weak and defenseless. That was the time she would strike and kill him. She could use the candleholder by the bedside, or the pillows to suffocate him. She would be quick and swift and have no remorse.


	9. Chapter 9

Instead of feeling a sharp pain from her vagina, she felt Iorveth's lips kiss her forehead. He was planting soft kisses all over her body. She was in a different kind of pain. She felt cheated from her bitterness, and hated how she enjoyed his caress. What was he doing to her? She had never felt this kind of tenderness before in her life. He somehow made her feel like they were the only ones left in the world. She forgot the past and the future, but was caught up only in this present moment. She forgot who he was, who she was and what had led them down here in the first place. Her mind was racing. Her heart was racing. He was making his way down to her taut stomach, then to her pubic hairs.

"Lift up your legs," he said to her, in between his kisses.

She bent her knees up and lifted her legs. This position had left her sex parts open and completely exposed to him. She didn't know why she had complied so easily and was about to drop her legs back down when she felt his soft moist tongue lick her from the base of her vagina up to her clitoris. She let out a yelp as she peered down at his face, with his mouth now firmed planted over her sex parts. His clear green eye starred back into her deep blue eyes, as if to suggest, 'do you yield now?'

He would not stop until she had admitted defeat. She had willingly allowed him to her body and he was happy to partake as much of her as he could now. He continued to lap her up and down, left to right. She could feel herself getting wet. Was it his saliva or was it her own juices? She could not tell, and she could not push back the pleasure she felt at his every stroke. He lifted his strong arms to her breasts and squeezed them as she felt him building his rhythm. She could tell that her uncontrollable groans were making him wild with excitement, so she covered her own mouth with both hands to try hard not to let any sound escaped her lips. She would fight back and she refused to give him any pleasure no matter what he was doing to her right now.

She lost her thought as she could feel him pressing her pleasure button. How had he known where to go and how to find this weak spot? He was building up the pressure and the intensity in her loins. He was playing her body expertly as if he was playing his own flute. She could feel his index finger searching for her vaginal opening. It felt uncomfortable as he inserted his finger into her, but yet the feeling he was giving her with his tongue had masked the pain. He increased his pace as she climaxed and felt her own body tremble uncontrollably under his mouth. Afraid, as this new sensation of ecstasy came crashing over her, she had screamed out, "No Ves!" followed by a low purr, as she lay on the bed, blushing with embarrassment over the rich enjoyment and sudden relief of the release. He had her. She realized she was bleeding and quickly covered her pussy, confused by the sight of her own blood seeping through the sheets. She was still tingling with pleasure and could not pin point where the blood was coming from, as she tried to check herself. She looked back at him, blushing and trying hard to explain why she was bleeding. She was backing away, rolling to her side to climb off the bed when he pulled her down to him and held her firmly in his strong arms.

"Ves – is that your name?" he asked, as she noted some of her own juices still dripping from the corners of his mouth. She nodded and hung her head low. It was as good as saying, 'I yield!' for her, maybe even worst. Her name was the one thing she had guarded tenaciously over the past two years with the Scoia'tael. They had nicknamed her 'the fox' which she laughed at, thinking of how they had really made her into that spritely little animal, scrounging around for food and fighting her way around the other beasts of the forest. Now she had given him her name, the one thing she clung onto as her true identity. The one thing she was determined not to reveal to anyone, lest they crawl into her heart and soften the hatred she tried so hard to keep against them.

"Ves, Ves, Ves," Iorveth replied, as if to remember her name, "I have waited two whole years for you to tell me your name and have always wondered how I would crack that strong will of yours. Now it seems, I have found the answer."

Ves was hurt by his small victory. She tried to wriggle away from his smile as he continued, "You see Ves, I have popped your cherry. You are no longer a virgin and I have brought you here to use you for my pleasure. You know that I am a man of my word and I always keep my promises," he said to her, in a firm steady tone.

Her body was still weak from pleasure and she understood that he was not finished with her yet. Infact, he was only just beginning and she was now at his mercy. It was indeed like all the duels they had in the past, only worst. This time, instead of leaving scars all over her body, he was leaving scars of pleasure and desire in her heart, which would prove harder to heal.

He had had her in every position imaginable; her legs in the air while she faced him, him coming from behind as she gripped the bed on all fours, he shifted her on her side, on his stomach, on the edged of the bed, at a ninty degree angle even making her go on top of him to ride on his cock. They were both covered in sweat and breathing heavily. He had thrust his long hard thick manhood into her repeatedly, making her scream in both pain and pleasure. She was to remember how hard and well he had ploughed her for the rest of her life. He would make sure she would remember how big his dick felt inside her as he ravaged her body and made her tremble again and again by rubbing her G-spot inside her with his extended penis and pinching her hard sore nipples, now sensitive and throbbing after he had repeatedly sucked on them.

She now knew why he had prepared the picnic at the waterfall earlier that day. He wanted to make sure they were not distracted by any other needs, so that he could have her continually for hours and hours today as he kept up his stamina. Many times he had spilled his pre cum into her as she thought that it would finally be over, only to find him smiling down on her and continuing his long pleasure. Perhaps it was because she had unknowingly built up his sexual tension for her over the many months since that time in the ancient ruins, when she had evaded his kiss?

He was not gentle with her anymore. It was hard, rough, crazed sex and he was greedily devouring the taste of her mouth, her breasts and her numb overworked pussy. He had enjoyed unwrapping her like a present. Her vagina was so tight and he derived pleasure at the knowledge that he was the first to enter her. Now he had made her bend to his every sexual need and made her act out every sexual fantasy he had had of her over the past two years. He was finally sated, as he made his final thrust into her aching body and spilled his seed into her wet vagina, making sure she had received every last drop as he squirted his semen into her and collapsed on top of her.

She felt his warm release shoot up into her body, his body trembling against hers, as she bit her lip down so as not to let an "I yield!" escape from her mouth. She had thought she was at her limit a long time ago, but he had kept on fucking her hard and she could not give him the satisfaction for seeing her crumble even further into defeat. All her carefully laid out plans to kill him at this moment had long escaped her. She did not anticipate how weak and defenseless she too would be. All she could do was collapse in his arms, bewildered at how he was able to give her this much pleasure and have his own way with her over and over again. She closed her eyes and they both feel asleep in each other's arms, as the last of the wick in the candlelight flickered away.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Ves woke up feeling fully rested, as she had never slept so comfortably in all her life. At the time, she had forgotten about the red rose Iorveth had placed behind her right ear, but now all that remained was its bare stem, lying on the pillow next to her and its scattered crushed petals all over the bed. He had already left, but she could still smell his scent all around her. He was in the pillow, the sheets and even on her body. Her body was sticky from sweat and his semen and her own cum – she would need a bath to wash everything off.

As she lay in bed, replaying the events of what took place the night before, she gritted her teeth in frustration at how foolish she had been. She was now reduced to being Iorveth's whore – no, not even that, for she had not traded her body for money, but for her own selfish pride. She should have yielded when he had asked her to take her clothes off at the bath pool. But would he have let her be or was he determined to have her anyway? She would never know now. It was true; he was a man who kept his word. He had integrity in that way, but she couldn't say the same for herself. Didn't she threaten to kill him and his men at the ancient ruins by her village that day? She had promised that she would kill Iorveth first, but here she was, lying in his bed, covered in his sweat, writhing at her missed opportunity to strike him when she had the chance.

She had lost to him. The past two years had been a failure, as she thought how foolish she was to think she was using him, when infact it was the reverse. She realized that he was molding her into how he had wanted her to be. Had he seen something in her that she did not know was even there? Had she subconsciously fallen in love with him against her better judgment? No, she refused to believe it was true and told herself that she should never see him again, lest she melt into the silly little girl from two years ago. How could she surrender herself to Iorveth? It would never work, they were of different kinds and afterall, he had brutally murdered her parents and all the villagers. She couldn't forget or forgive that. Falling for him would be to desecrate the memory of her parents, and somehow condone what he had done, and indeed what he was still doing to other human towns and villages around the Pontar Valley. Of all the men in Temeria, why was it he, who had stolen her first kiss and taken her virginity? She wanted a handsome noblemen's son, to sweep her off her feet; not a scarred face murderous elf who was too many years older than she. Yet, she had felt no greater pleasure than being his last night. She wanted to experience and enjoy him again today, and tomorrow and the day after that. He had come to her in all honesty and had revealed to her how much he had wanted her for the past two years. He was a proud elf and no doubt he had some good qualities in his character that she greatly admired. Why was she thinking of him again? 'No Ves, don't fall for him and don't tempt yourself by being in his presence again', she had told herself, over and over again.

Ves got up and made her way back to the adjoining chamber with the hot spring bath. She plunged into the warm water and washed herself clean. She tried hard to wash away Iorveth's scent but noticed the love bites, marks and bruises he had made all over her body. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she could not remove his marks, not to mention her aching nipples and throbbing sex. She tried to remove all his semen from her vagina, yet she could still feel his large dick in her body and could not get rid of the memory of that sensation. Even this very pool reminded her of him, of how he had gently washed her body, before he had led her into the next room.

As she got out of the pool to dress, finding her clothes on the ground where she had left them the day before, she cursed herself for once again thinking of Iorveth and her craving for his touch. She wondered why he had left her to wake in her own time. None of the other Scoia'tael were around and she wondered if he would keep their encounter a secret? As she remembered that she was beyond her usual boundary of the forest, instead of heading back to base camp, she could easily press further into the forest to escape them once and for all. Perhaps Iorveth had made the mistake of thinking that she was now his, and would not leave him now that they had made passionate love to each other?

As Ves climbed up the stone steps leading back to the surface of the Elven gardens, she thought she heard faint footsteps nearby. She quickly leaned against the pillar covered in vines, to keep herself from view. As she peered over, she caught the silhouette of a man dressed in a heavy blue woolen garb. He had a black chaperon around his head, and he wore a gold medallion around his neck. He had two long swords on his thick leather belt, fastened around his waist, but what caught her attention was his pale face, his dark eyes and his strong jaw line – he was a human. She had not seen another human for a long time. There was the occasional dwarf who banded with the Scoia'tael, but never a human. The Scoia'tael were human haters after all. Seeing that he was her own kind, she felt she could trust this man. He was obviously a warrior and no ordinary villager. He looked strong and fierce and well to do.

She slid out from behind the pillar to face him in the open. He turned to her as he moved his hands to the hilt of his sword.

"Who are you?" he commanded, "What do you want?"

His questions struck a cord in her. Indeed, who was she? Iorveth's captive, or his lover? What did she want? It was obvious that she did not want to kill the elf to avenge her parent's deaths. She had the chance to do so last night but did not have the strength, courage or willpower to execute.

He looked at her suspiciously, "What is a young human women doing in these Elven ruins?" he queried, as he continued after a long pause. "I have no time for babysitting. I am Vernon Roche, commander of the Blue Stripes, special forces of the Temerian military serving King Foltest. I have been ordered here to investigate the burning down of several human villages in the area over the past few moons." he explained.

At this, she knew that her meeting Roche was not by mere chance. She felt no attraction to him personally, only the fact that he was her kind and she was terrified of her new found affection for Iorveth and wanted to run as far away from that truth as possible. It was the mission Roche had been sent to do, which rang close to her heart. He was seeking justice for the massacred innocent people - people like her parents. She shared the same values and wanted so badly to tell him all about what had happened to her own village two years ago.

"I'm running away from the Scoia'tael who roam these forests. They killed my parents and I have no place else to go." she replied, desperately hoping he could hear the truthful pain in her voice.

No sooner she ended her last sentence, when she noticed movement from the distant trees. It was Euan and Finlay, darting from branch to branch and fast approaching them.

Iorveth was pacing back and forth back at base camp. He had left Ves at the Elven Ruins, wanting to extend the same trust she displayed in him, when he would train her blindfolded in the forest or be the judge of her breaking point during their duels. Last night was no exception. She had trusted him with her sensual body, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to trust her with her freedom. She was strong enough to handle any nekker in the forest on her own by now, so he did not fear for her safety. He strongly suspected she had fallen in love with him – why else did she allow him to have his way with her last night, and why did her body respond so well to his? It was her moans and groans that had confirmed she was not letting him enter into her repeatedly, out of fear or obligation. He knew that she had tried to hate him and wanted so badly to kill him to avenge her parent's death. He wished they had not met in those circumstances, but what's done is done. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Ves' silk ivory ribbon as he delighted in its delicate soft texture across his fingers. Her sweet smell had long vanished from the ribbon, but he could still remember the sweet scent it had, on that first night that he had brought her back to base camp. Iorveth had wrapped the ribbon around his fists, breathing it in that night, as he thought of her sleeping nearby, somewhere in his cave. Now he thought of her again. Where was she? He would send his two fastest Scoia'tael to retrive her from the Elven ruins. She had taken too long in getting back and he had regretted leaving his greatest treasure unguarded.

"They're coming," she whispered, gesturing to the two elves in the distance.

"Follow me," Vernon responded as they made their descent down the pathway to the forest floor, leaving the Elven ruins behind them.

"Thank you, sir," Ves whispered as she followed him through the forest, toward his ship on the Pontar River.


End file.
